Page 131 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

I don’t deny it. He speaks the truth. Painting over the past won’t change that. But the future isn’t set.

Quietly, I rise to my feet as Stellen reaches carefully for the pump, turning off the water. The liquid drains away around us.

I point to the disappearing water. “Do you see?” I ask Antony, echoing what he said to me after an assassin had tried to kill me. “The past is draining away. Yes, it happened, but soon it will be gone, and you won’t have to fear it anymore.”

Antony shakes his head at me, a vehement side to side, his bloodshot eyes barely focusing on me. “That won’t work this time.”

I ignore him because his wounds aren’t healing and I won’t stand by while the blood bind hurts him. Dropping into his lap, straddling him, my knees on either side of his hips, I say, “Be done with your fear, Antony. Once and for all.”

Sharply, I tilt my head and bare my neck to him.

He recoils again, and I’m conscious of the sharp look he gives Stellen.

The threatening ring of steel tells me Stellen has drawn his swords, as I trusted he would.

He won’t let me get hurt.

“Bare your fangs,” I say to Antony, a hum in my voice, an irrepressible power filling my throat. “Kiss my neck. Thoroughly. But don’t drink.”

His fangs extend and his eyes fill to full black. I allow myself to bend to his will as his arms rise across my back and he yanks me closer, my pelvis pressed hard to his.

The silver armor at my neck parts for him, exposing my flesh to danger.

He snarls. “Be careful what you ask for, Thyra.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Thyra

Antony’s lips crash against my throat, his sharp fangs sliding across my vulnerable neck.

A heartbeat later, his fangs retract, his hungry lips moving from the base of my throat up to my earlobe, his tongue grazing my skin, his kisses sending pulsing shivers down my spine and into my suddenly throbbing core.

One of his hands cups the back of my head, the other pressing against the small of my back, aligning my pelvis with his hard length while his tongue plunders my mouth and he devours my suddenly dizzy breaths.

“Was that thorough enough?” he rumbles against my lips, inhaling deeply against my skin before he plants a final, light-as-feathers kiss on my tingling neck.

My core aches and my heart hammers and I want, more than anything, to say, No, not nearly enough.

The pain in his eyes shakes me from the grip of desire.

Prying his hands away from my back, I rise, my feet planted on either side of his thighs, and stand over him.

His hands curl around my calves, his thumbs stroking the naked skin that my armor exposes to his touch.

With effort, I turn my focus to Stellen, holding out my arm to him. He has remained on his guard, his swords ready, and thank the Goddess for that, because I could have easily lost my mind to Antony’s kisses.

Stellen’s upper blade glides across the air, landing the lightest prick on my wrist.

So expertly performed that the cut is near painless.

Blood rises to the surface of my skin.

Antony’s hands tighten painfully around my legs, his eyes flooding black again and his fangs rapidly descending.

If I thought I might be in danger before, I was delusional.

Now is when the danger starts.